


Patron saint

by pants2match



Series: ticking boxes [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Episode: s04e17 Demonology, Gen, References to Cancer, References to Infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:35:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pants2match/pseuds/pants2match
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 day drabble challenge: snowflake</p><p>It was too perfect. St. Agatha, patron saint against breast cancer and sterility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patron saint

It was too perfect. St. Agatha, patron saint against breast cancer and sterility.

—

At first, she thought it was just the flu. She was vomiting and had a fever and her entire lower abdomen was throbbing like nothing else. It had been three months and she’d been fine, (well, physically fine), but when she started bleeding the week after her period, she got worried.

Her mom had found her in her bed crying a week into this “flu” and she’d held her for an hour before she’d asked what was wrong. _Mom… I was—I—I had—_ and she’d started all over again. _Em, honey… whatever it is…_ She told her and she, _her mother_ , had cried with her, was devastated that Emily had to go through this alone (she told her that Matthew was there, that he’d held her hand, and she’d almost cried the next time she met him), that she felt she couldn’t come to her with this, and all Emily could do was hug back tighter.

Emily had never thought about it before that day, but her mom had been twenty-two when she had her. A mere seven years older than herself — she was still in college, still in _undergrad_. She’d always seen her, thought of her as this graceful, polished woman, but fifteen years ago she’d been just as scared as she was.

The next day she cleared her schedule took her to an embassy doctor who diagnosed her with PID, referred her to a gyn, and given her a handful of scripts. The gyn… she told her that, although she’d only been symptomatic for a week or so, the infection had caused scarring in the fallopian tubes, and along with pre-existing fibroid tumours, it was unlikely she’d ever be able to conceive or carry to term.

—

The year after Emily joined the bureau, Elizabeth was diagnosed with breast cancer. She got lucky, incredibly so. Her insurance covered yearly mammograms, but as they’d found out, HER2-Positive breast cancer is aggressive, and rapid-growing.

Stage 2B is good ( _well_ ), is still classed as early, and most-importantly has yet to spread to the lymph-nodes, meaning it’s not growing as fast as it could be, and it’s unlikely to have metastasised anywhere.

The surgery is textbook, she’s lucky enough to only require a lumpectomy ( _Emily, my breasts may not be like yours anymore, but we’re Doherty women and I have a reputation to maintain!_ ), as is the chemo, but once it’s all through she takes a posting in Egypt and they don’t speak for six months.

It’s on both of them, really, but it still hurts, and once they do start speaking, it’s stilted at best. Two years later when she returns, it’s another four months before they see each other; they talk, make and break plans, send cards on birthdays and christmas, but nothing substantial.

She gets shot in Chicago. A serial abductor with shitty aim gets her in the shoulder but she’s still standing because there’s a kid in his arms and now the muzzle’s leaving a brand on the her temple. The team moves in despite her protests and it’s barely moment before he shoots the girl and himself. Cooper sends her home, says she doesn’t want to see her for a week, and somehow, two-and-a-half hours later, she’s on her mother’s doorstep.

—

“ _Rossi_.”

“Hey, Dave, uh… can you come get me please?”

“ _Of course, where are you?_ ”

She looks around, she’d been walking for… God a good two miles in the snow, “I’m at St. Matthews… it’s near Scott Circle..”

It’s half hour before she sees the black Alfa come off Rhode Island.

“Where to, Em?”

“My mom’s.”


End file.
